Protect Him
by Bloody Zephyr
Summary: I was given a mission from my superiors: Protect Dean Winchester from death. Should he die, I would die. While my life is not important, his is, for he is a light on a path of darkness. Slight OOC Castiel. Not really slash. Guardian fic.


He never should have met me. He never should have been able to see me. It was my duty as Dean's protector and "guardian angel" to make sure he didn't die, but he wasn't ready to know of my existence. My orders weren't explained to me in depth, but I had a suspicion that, should I fail, I would be murdered by my brothers and sisters. Therefore, I made it a personal mission of sorts to make sure all three of the Winchester men survived their difficult day job. They were co-dependent on each other—a team and family that knew the truth of the what goes bump in the night. If I did fail, no one would step forward to take my place...the men would not receive mercy.

* * *

As per usual, the flashing bar lights flickered across the empty parking lot at _O'Malley's Cloverfield. _The pounding beats of annoying modern pop and rock hit my vessel's ears and filled my mind with the erotic and vulgar lyrics. I could practically smell the cheap beer and stale cigarette smoke from where I the dark building sat twenty-six year old Dean Winchester, twenty-two year old Samuel Winchester, and fifty-two year old John Winchester, drinking foul liquor and spirits that could burn the insides of an ancient demon. It appeared to be a celebration of sorts for them. They had successfully executed a rather by-the-book salt and burn, destroying the remains of Daniel Shield, a lying businessman with a history of affairs. With only a few scrapes and bruises, they did not require my assistance. I would continue to allow them to drink in peace in a way that only humans could find pleasurable. Then everything changed.

As I made to leave, the slamming of a door inside the bar stopped me in my tracks. As I turned around, the large, rustic _mahogany_ entrance doors shattered as Samuel was punched across the room and, evidently, out of the building. Thousands of shards of glass followed his untimely exit as John was thrown out one of the old, rain stained windows. I rushed forward to see their condition. They were unconscious, but they would live. Leaving the two Winchester's on the ground, without a second thought, I automatically disappeared and reappeared on the interior of the small room. I glanced about with a dead expression on my face as I took in the dead, bleeding bodies of the bartender and the few innocent patrons draped haphazardly across the top of the bar and their stools. They had been ripped apart, their intestines strewn across the floor, mixed with the occasional heart and spleen—Hellhounds. I could see the ghostly images reflected in the mind of my charge as I stared into his eyes from across the room.

* * *

_The Winchester's sat quietly at the bar, nursing their separate bottles of beer in their warm, calloused hands, still shaking slightly from the adrenaline pulsing through their bodies. Minutes passed in silence as a thirty-something man stood from his place against the wall and strolled across the room and into the small restroom. Several more minutes passed as one, two, three shots of whiskey made their way down the accepting throats of the Winchester trio. The peaceful beats of Black Betty shook the floor, but it only added to the welcoming atmosphere. O'Malley's was a winner. Decent drink, good music...The only improvement would have been a few hot, sexy, single women in tight leather pants and too-small tanks gyrating to the "soothing" tones of Ram Jam. Several more perverse fantasies flew through the young, hormonal man's mind as he sipped at his beer in between the shots of whiskey being periodically placed in front of him by the middle-aged bartender. _

_Suddenly, the suave man from before stumbled out of the restroom with a hand pressed against his temple. John nudged Dean and Samuel in the thigh before jutting his head in the suspicious man's direction. With two subtle nods, John tilted his head at Sam who took the hint and stood with a gentle smile on his face as he made his way to the seemingly drunk patron. _

_Things took a turn for the worse as the man's body shook and then shot ram-rod straight, a strangled cry escaping him as he slammed his palm forward into Samuel's chest, catapulting the ex-college student across the room and out the hard door. John was on his feet in an instant, pulling his gun out of his army jacket without a second thought. As he made to raise and fire, a rippling growl made him whip around and, without any warning, an invisible beast pushed him through the nearest window with its bloody and scratched paws and, ironically, out of harms way. The beast set forth murdering and slaughtering the nervous and frightened men and women perched upon their various stools. It was instant chaos. Dean made to get up and check on his brother and father, but a hand wrapping around his neck and pressing him into the wall stopped him. _

* * *

Dean, my primary charge, was being held up against the far wall by his strong neck. As I made my way across the room, I took note of the way the color was draining from his face, and the way his tight grip on the possessed man's biceps was loosening as his only source of oxygen was being stripped from him. I could not allow this to continue. I assumed it was a simple, low-level demon, so with purpose, I rose my vessel's right hand and with my Grace alone, I attempted to shove the demon off my charge.

The demon stalled in trying to, quite literally, choke Dean to death, however, he didn't move away. I was wrong. This was not some run-of-the-mill demon. He turned his head toward me with a large smirk resting upon his unwilling suit's face. He held Dean to the wall with the power of his demonic energy alone and threw his hand out to, what Dean would guess to be, the air.

I gasped as I felt the wave of dark energy wash over me. _Damn it._ I had given away my position. With another evil chuckle, the demon stalked over to where I was futility trying to move, let out a hearty laugh, and grasped my vessel by the neck. I felt a slight twinge of pain as he punched my vessel's stomach, releasing another wave of energy directly into Jimmy's body, and my soul. With my cover compromised, I let the Grace masking my body from human eyes fall away.

I saw Dean's eyes widen in, what I could only assume to be, fear. Later I would discover it was fear, but for my own health, not of the fact that a "human" could hide himself from view in an open area. The demon leaned forward, breathing heavily down my neck, and whispered into my ear, "_Angel...You don't belong here. Go back up to Heaven and kiss Daddy's feet."_ For a moment, I simply stared forward, then, once I had absorbed what had been said to me, it was like a door had been opened between my vessel and I. I allowed my rage to consume me. No one mocked Father—no one! With an angelic growl of righteous anger, I bucked my vessel's, no, our head up and smashed my our forehead into the demon's eye. He dropped me to the floor with a howl of pain and grabbed at his meat suit's face, whimpering in agony. Very few people are ever allowed contact with an angel, so little is known about our strength. If a human were to hit us, they would break their hand. If a demon tried, they would feel similar side-effects, but not to the same level. No matter the reaction, I knew I only had a moment or two before the beast would be back on its feet. I had to act fast.

I quickly muttered a few words in Enochian and jumped forward—a previously hidden angelic sword popping into view in my right hand. Just as the tip of my dagger-like weapon pierced the creature's neck, he scrambled backwards, and, with my vessel's body in a state of imbalance and my wings inaccessible in the pitifully small space, I tumbled forwards, dropping my blade...and into the heel of the demon's borrowed body. I felt both my vessel's nose crack and the blood stream down my cheeks and into my slightly open mouth. I had put myself in an uncomfortable position. I had, how the human's say, my back to the proverbial wall. There was a slim percentage of survival. I would most likely die here; being forcibly pushed into the hard, dirty floor of a run-down bar, my charge being held up against the wall by the sheer will-power of this demon, and two unconscious Winchester's outside on the cold, unforgiving ground.

The demon pushed himself closer to me as he straddled my chest and put all his body weight against my vessel's neck. At the rate I could hear vertebrae cracking, my vessel would no longer have a neck in mere seconds. I only had two options left—allow my true form to come to the surface, smite the demon and risk my charge's eye sight should he get even the smallest glimpse of my Grace, or I could risk both my life and Jimmy's by allowing the demon to break my his neck and give the evil being a false sense of security, while hoping I could mend Jimmy's neck afterward. Otherwise, I would not have the opportunity to ensure Dean's survival. I could not risk my mission's completion on the hope that Dean would close his eyes. I would have to literally risk Jimmy's neck.

I closed my eyes and took a small, gasping, shallow breath and I felt the final vertebrae crack, and with a moan of agony, I coughed up blood from the shattered bones ripping open Jimmy's esophagus. I could feel his pain. I felt the demon above me chuckle in glee as he believed he had killed me. I could see the soul connection between Jimmy and I begin to fray as his life began to fade. I promised him I would allow him to see his wife once more before I took his body as my own, therefore, I couldn't let him die this way. I had to move. The demon slowly stood from my chest as he realized Dean was still paralyzed to the wall, voice box frozen and body immobilized. He turned his back to me and I opened Jimmy's eyes, slowly inching forward until we was sitting up, our back straight and tall. With nigh but a small twitch in one of the floor boards, I dove forward and caught the monster in the back with my fallen blade, a small grin of satisfaction flashing upon my features as I watched his vessel fall to the ground, and his smoky body slither to the floor in a mass of ash and fire.

With quick, practiced movements, I released my charge from the wall, and before he could interrogate me, erased his memory of the events that occurred in the last hour. Stepping away from Dean for a moment, I pressed the heals of my hands to Jimmy's neck, our neck, and willed my Grace to heal us. After a second of hesitation, I felt the tell-tale tingle of love and joy spread through Jimmy's soul as he came back from the cusp of Death. This had to end now. I swept my hand across the bar, watching in pure boredom as the stools straightened themselves, and the blood and bodies disappeared. I couldn't save the humans, but I could erase both John's and Samuel's memories to ensure my charge would never know what happened. Unfortunately, should he ever see Jimmy again, he would remember me, so I couldn't hang around to watch the men come-to. I bent down and tapped Dean's forehead once as he disappeared to the pre-rented motel the family had been staying in. I walked outside and repeated my gesture to Samuel and John before looking back to the bar and disappearing from Earth and Dean's memory for several years. I had to remain an invisible savior—a shadow.

* * *

When later asked why I risked both my vessel's and my life, I responded to my superiors with a straight, proud face,_"I had to. It was, after all, my duty, my mission, my life's work, to protect him. He is the future—the fate of the world rests in the hands of himself and his comrades and brothers in arms. I will not abandon Father's greatest creations for something as worthless as my life. He is a light in the dark for many other suffering souls...a lantern for the wandering people on the path of darkness. I know it sounds ironic and unreasonable, but I cannot call myself an Angel of the Lord if I forsake his eternal soul to an early after-life in Hell's fiery depths." _I endured the...education my fellow angels put me through with a blank expression. I was willing to become a loyal soldier of the Archangels and their skewed beliefs if it meant I could spend another minute on Earth, saving my charge—protecting him.

* * *

Thank you for reading. I was trying something a little different with this story. I am an avid fan of Dastiel (or Destiel if you prefer), but I understand where people would be more accepting of a more friendship based relationship between the two. I hope you enjoyed Protect Him. Please review and let me know what you think. I am also looking for a beta, so if anyone is interested I would love to here from you in either a review or a PM.


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